Simply Beautiful (formerly Be Prepared)
by DatNookieThang
Summary: "I'm saying that I can't stop thinking about you." What *was* it about Cookie that led to that conversation in Cookie's office? Started as a one-shot, now multi-chaptered Mookie goodness. (Be Prepared is now chapter one. 2nd chapter is a MASSIVE overhaul of an unfinished story that had no title.)
1. Be Prepared

_Be prepared._

Malcolm DeVeaux had heard that all his life. As a child of a sailor, as a Boy Scout, as a Navy SEAL. _Be prepared._ But the people who came up with that pithy motto hadn't dreamed of what it was like to work for Empire Enterprises.

At times like these, Malcolm wondered what he'd done to deserve having the backseat of his truck covered in vomit while the boss bitch of Empire Enterprises – who happened to be his boss's ex-wife – was snoring with her head in his lap. Malcolm knew that Cookie wasn't a stranger to Ghetto Ass Studio up in the Bronx. Still, he told his partner, Agent Chris Spencer, to swing by anyway, just to make sure that she'd gotten there okay. It turned out to be a good hunch. Cookie was being mugged as they were pulling up. She was dead drunk and no match for the muggers, but the muggers were no match for Malcolm and Spencer.

Cookie, as it turned out, was no match for Malcolm. Cookie had always been flirtatious, but this was the first time she'd blatantly thrown herself at him, spreading her legs for him in the back of his truck and inviting him to have sex with her. It was easy to tell her no. Malcolm had been a straight up dog back in his day, but he would never take advantage of a drunk woman. But now he had the problem of having to explain to Lucious why his ex-wife was drunk in the middle of the day in the Bronx. Malcolm was supposed to be the head of security, so why was Cookie being mugged?

Malcolm had been in the front seat when Cookie began to throw up, forcing Spencer to pull over, along with the car trailing them. Spencer and two other men sacrificed their suit coats to the vomit, along with some old towels Malcolm kept in his trunk, because it was better to ruin their suits than Cookie's expensive clothes. In the end, Malcolm had to get in the backseat with Cookie, keeping her head slightly propped up on his lap to keep her from choking on anything that might have still been in her mouth or her stomach.

"Cookie, what were you doing back there? What were you thinking?" It was hard not to be angry with her. Malcolm could lose his job over a stunt like this. He'd never be able to explain what happened to Lucious. Come to think of it, Malcolm had no idea what had happened.

"We…we got him," Cookie mumbled from Malcolm's lap. She rolled onto her back and even had the nerve to smile.

"We?" Malcolm asked. "We who? And roll back over on your side."

"Royal T…is staying. He's staying with Empire."

"So what, you got into some kind of drinking contest or something?" Spencer asked from the front seat.

"You got into a drinking contest to keep some rapper? In the Bronx? For _Lucious_?" Malcolm nearly hit the ceiling. "Cookie, are you _crazy?"_

"I didn't do it for Lucious!" Cookie slurred drunkenly. "I did it for Empire, fool! I did it for my money."

The more Malcolm thought about it, the angrier he got, and not just at Cookie. What kind of so-called men would let a woman in Cookie's condition out on the streets by herself? Why didn't they at least call her a cab? "Cookie, you could have been hurt! Or kidnapped! Or even worse! Cookie, are you listening to me?" he demanded as Cookie's eyes drooped.

"Be easy, Malcolm," Spencer said. "Cookie can't even hear you. Let her sleep it off."

"Just drive, man." Malcolm was never going to be able to explain this to Lucious. Never.

"You sure you're okay back there with Cookie's head in your lap? Temptation is a mutha, you know. _'Take these cookies,"_ Spencer mimicked. _"Take 'em. I won't tell."_

"I said drive!" Malcolm barked.

Spencer's eyes caught Malcolm's in the rearview mirror as Cookie stirred. "Can't. Traffic jam."

"Sorry." Malcolm gritted his teeth. He already knew what was coming. "What is it, Spence?"

Spencer didn't say anything. He just raised his eyebrows. "I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, but you want to."

"It's not my business, Malcolm."

Out of all the agents on Malcolm's roster, Spencer was the man he was closest to. "Just say it okay? We have plenty of time to talk now."

"Mal…" Like Malcolm, it was Spencer's job to study people, and he had seen this coming a mile away. "It's not like you said, _'Cookie, we should keep our relationship strictly work-related,'_ or _'Cookie, I only like you as a friend.'_ You told her that she was off-limits to you because Lucious is your boss. That's not a turn-down, bro. That's a suggestion."

"A suggestion to do what?"

"A suggestion that if it wasn't for Lucious, you'd go out with her. Which you would," Spencer added. "Don't deny it, either."

"I wasn't planning to." Malcolm could admit to himself that hadn't tried very hard to stop her flirting – partly because it made Lucious so jealous, but partly because he liked it. He might have even tossed her a quip or two himself. It was a fun, but harmless way for the two of them to pass time, or so he thought. Malcolm never would've imagined in a million years that Cookie would act the way she did today, not even under the influence of alcohol. It changed everything. _"Lucious is my boss, and he's still in love with you,"_ he'd told Cookie as he escorted her back to the truck. " _So you're off-limits to me."_

"I'm supposed to be at her house on Sunday to upgrade the security system now that Lola's going to be staying at Cookie's every other weekend," Malcolm told Spencer. "But that was before today. I don't know if I should go."

"Who asked you to go? Cookie or Lucious?"

"Lucious. You think he's testing me? Trying to see if I'll make a move or something?"

"Probably. You still better go, though." Spencer advised. "Otherwise, you're going to have to tell him why or make something up to get out of it, and that doesn't look good. If it was Cookie, at least she'd know why you were sending someone else. But I don't think she'll try anything, especially if her granddaughter is there."

All this time, Malcolm thought he had been discreet about his attraction to Cookie. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face. Even with purple drool coming out of the corners of her mouth, Cookie was stunning. "You think she knows?" Malcolm asked quietly.

"She's a woman, Mal. She knows. Might as well take those cookies this weekend," Spencer smiled. "Take 'em. I won't tell."

"Shut up, Spence," Malcolm said, chuckling. Stroking the hair of the sleeping beauty in his lap, Malcolm wondered what baked goods Cookie was going to offer him when she woke up.

* * *

Cookie's hellraiser reputation was notorious, so most people made a wide berth around her as she stomped into Empire Enterprises. Malcolm trailed behind her. "Need me to come with you?" Spencer asked.

"Nah, I'm good. Report to the hub so everyone knows we're here. Traffic jam or not, we're a good three hours late."

Surprisingly, Cookie was able to walk to the elevator, spine straight and head held high. It was the elevator ride up 13 stories that finally did her in. Malcolm grabbed the nearest trash can just in time for Cookie to vomit all over again. Luckily, everybody was downstairs dealing with the Empire breach, so nobody saw it. Malcolm kept Cookie on her feet until they made it to her office, where she promptly jerked away from Malcolm, fell to her knees and began sliding to the bathroom floor on her belly. Had Cookie not been on the verge of alcohol poisoning, it would have been funny. As it was, Cookie looked ridiculous.

"Cookie." Malcolm's voice was stern as he hooked Cookie's body underneath her arms and lifted her back to her feet.

Cookie wasn't very heavy, but she was dead weight, and she didn't take kindly to being manhandled. "Get off me, motherfucker! I can walk!"

"Walk?" Malcolm scoffed. "You can't even _crawl_. Even babies can do that." Malcolm's patience was wearing thin. "And stop fighting me. You've given me enough trouble today."

"Screw you, punk ass." Cookie muttered. She began to struggle against Malcolm's grip again.

"I already told you – no, thanks." Cookie swiped weakly at Malcolm, but he brushed her off. "Let's get you into the bathroom."

"Ugh, for what?!" Cookie jerked away from Malcolm again. "I don't get down with that nasty shit!"

Malcolm chuckled. "You're a mess, Cookie Lyon. But you're going to be okay." He dragged Cookie to the sink, grateful for the coffee mug on her desk. "What are you doing?" she cried as Malcolm filled the mug with water and brought it to her lips. "You tryna drown me!?"

"We're going to rinse your mouth out." Malcolm slowly tipped the cup to Cookie's lips. "Don't drink it. Just hold it in your mouth. Now swish it around in your mouth and spit it out. Can you do that?"

"Spitters are quitters, Malcolm," Cookie said through a mouthful of puke and water. "I'm not a quitter. Never have been." She tilted her head back and began to gargle instead.

 _"Cookie!"_ Malcolm groaned. "Spit that out!" The dark purple color and chunks of vomit made Malcolm nervous. "Good. Let's do it again."

"Sure you don't want me to swallow?" Cookie tilted her head back again, laughing.

"Damn it, Cookie…"

Cookie spat the water out again. "You're no fun," she pouted.

"One more time, Cookie. And no backtalk." The water was as clear as it was going to get. "That's good. Let's get you to the sofa so you can lie down."

"I said get _off_ me." Cookie pushed past Malcolm, then smirked at him as she removed her jacket. "Cookie," Malcolm warned, dreading what she was about to do next.

Cookie threw her jacket at Malcolm, but missed by a mile. "Get out. Lucious is probably calling you right now," she added nastily. "Go run and see what your daddy wants."

It took everything in Malcolm not to tell Cookie what he had heard about Cookie and Malcolm's so-called daddy. "You're welcome," he said sarcastically. "Next time you want to run around in a dangerous part of town, try not to get jacked, Cookie Monster-"

Cookie whirled around. "What did you call me?" she asked, her eyes suddenly filled with rage.

"Cookie, it was a joke." Certainly somebody with a nickname like Cookie had been called Cookie Monster before. "I didn't mean-"

 _"Shut up!"_ Cookie's voice had risen to a full blown scream. "You can't call me that! Don't you ever call me that again! Only-"

A sudden mouthful of vomit cut Cookie off. She stumbled in her heels into the bathroom, nearly striking her head against the porcelain as she collapsed on the toilet. Malcolm managed to get into the bathroom in time to hold her hair back while she emptied her stomach all over again. Cookie's head was so deep in the toilet that Malcolm feared that she could possibly drown if she didn't pull herself back up. _Great_ , Malcolm thought miserably. _Just what I need_. Now, more than ever, Malcolm wanted to get out of Cookie's office before anything else could go wrong. "Stand up, Cookie. Let's clean your mouth again so you don't choke to death in your sleep."

Cookie didn't resist this time when Malcolm pulled her up to her feet, and she was passive enough to rinse her mouth out again. But she pulled away from Malcolm a second time as she stumbled to the sofa, falling head first into the thick leather cushions. _Damn it!_ If Cookie wasn't going to bust her head wide open, twist her ankle or drown in a toilet, she was going to suffocate to death.

Malcolm had no choice but to scoop her body up and gently lay her down on her back. He was also going to have to take her shoes off. Malcolm felt uncomfortable undressing Cookie, but her boots would ruin the couch. With her shoes off, Malcolm placed Cookie's legs on the sofa and tucked a couple of pillows under her head.

 _Okay, time to get out of here._ Cookie was safe and she had a few hours to sleep this off. She'd probably have a giant hangover, though. Malcolm found a small bottle of aspirin in Cookie's bathroom cabinet and set it next to her on the table. Except what would she drink it down with? And she would probably be a little hungry, too.

Praying that Cookie didn't roll over and fall on the floor, Malcolm went down to the large, cafeteria-sized lunch room on the first floor and grabbed a few snacks. Nothing too heavy. Just a little fruit, a blueberry muffin and Chex mix, along with two small bottles of fresh water for her aspirin and a couple of napkins. He set them all on top of the table, covering the food with a napkin. Then he remembered that Cookie could wake up and start throwing up all over again. He fetched the wastebasket by her desk and placed it close to the couch. Then he moved the table away from the couch just in case Cookie _did_ roll over and fall to the floor. The last thing Malcolm needed was for Cookie to fall off the sofa and hit her head on the table.

Food, water, aspirin, wastebasket, table. _Now I can get out of here. No, I should pick her stuff up first_. Malcolm folded Cookie's coat over her desk chair. A lens had fallen out of her eye shades when they fell out of her jacket and hit the floor, so Malcolm popped it back in and placed them on the desk. He placed her purse underneath her desk. _Now_ he could leave.

Malcolm turned back to look at Cookie one last time. Cookie had tucked herself into a tight ball as if she was still sleeping on her prison cot instead of a couch that cost more than his new truck. Was she cold?

 _She must be cold. I shouldn't have taken her shoes off._

Malcolm kept a number of things in the back of his truck. He was prepared for every disaster a body could think of. One thing that was a staple, regardless of the weather, was an old blanket. Malcolm went back down 13 floors, grabbed an old blanket, then went back up 13 floors, hoping that everyone was too distracted to notice him. The blanket was ugly and a little scratchy, but it was warm and heavy, and it was large enough to cover Cookie from head to toe. Little by little, she began to straighten her legs out as the warmth spread across over her body.

Food, water, aspirin, wastebasket, hidden valuables, a blanket... _now_ he could leave. Malcolm had gone above and beyond his duty to take care of a woman who had been nothing but a headache to him. Cookie was vulgar, combative, and obnoxious. Plus she had ruined the backseat of his truck.

Yet couldn't Malcolm stop staring at Cookie, curled up on a $62,000 couch, comforted by a cheap Salvation Army blanket. She looked so small and delicate that no one would ever believe how much liquor she could put away, _or_ how hard it was to fold her legs up. And there was one more thing. Even in Cookie's sleep, something was making her cry.

Was Cookie dreaming about her sons? Her past? Lucious? Lucious and Anika had recently announced their engagement to the public, but word on the street was that Lucious and Cookie had hooked up when she got back out of prison. Maybe Cookie thought they would get back together when she got out of prison. Maybe that fantasy had kept her afloat for 17 miserable years, years Cookie had served in order to protect the man who betrayed her the minute the doors slammed shut. And now…

 _"Shut up! You can't call me that! Don't you ever call me that again! Only-"_ Only Lucious could call her Cookie Monster. That's what Cookie was about to say before she threw up again.

Malcolm walked over to Cookie, knelt down and wiped Cookie's tears from her face. It was Malcolm's fault that she was crying. Cookie _had_ to be dreaming about Lucious. Who else had enough power to make Cookie weep in her sleep? To make fresh tears come to her eyes as soon as old ones were dried away? "I'm sorry, Cookie," Malcolm whispered in her ear. It was no use. The tears kept flowing.

Without thinking, Malcolm kissed Cookie softly on her eyebrow. As soon as his lips brushed her skin, he knew he'd made a terrible mistake. Cookie's perfume made him dizzy, and her skin was soft as silk beneath his lips. Malcolm shoved himself backward, hitting his back against the table. He wasn't far away enough from Cookie. Not nearly far enough. _What the hell am I doing?_

Loyalty was a navy code, and Malcolm was breaking it. Lucious was his boss. His commander. Yet Malcolm wanted to nothing more than to lie down next to his commander's wife and hold her while she slept. He wanted to protect Cookie from the bad guys forever. He wanted to kiss her tears away. But more than anything, Malcolm wanted to take those cookies until Hershey's syrup shot out of his dick.

A buzz in Malcolm's pocket pulled Malcolm from his cocoa-flavored fantasies. Lucious was calling Malcolm from his private number, meaning it was an emergency and Malcolm had to leave immediately. Malcolm took one of the water bottles from the table and gulped the whole thing down, desperate to clear his head. Break time was over, and so were his fantasies about Cookie Lyon.

As for Lucious testing Malcolm, forget it. He was going to tell Lucious that he had something to do and couldn't make it to Cookie's as soon as this was all over. _You're here to secure and protect Empire Enterprises,_ Malcolm reminded himself. _Get to your feet, sailor, and get out of here._

Malcolm's hand was on the doorknob when he heard Cookie say his name, just barely. _Don't turn around, sailor,_ Malcolm ordered himself. _Don't violate the code. Don't even look at her._ "Yes, Ms. Lyon?" But Cookie didn't respond, so Malcolm turned around to make sure she was okay. "Ms. Lyon?"

Cookie's crooked smile could barely be seen underneath Malcolm's blanket, but it was there, and it was heart melting. "Thank you," she said, her voice as soft as the kiss he'd given her moments ago.

"See you Sunday, Cookie." Malcolm saved his smile until after he gently closed the door behind him.

END


	2. Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

_Note: Find "Malcolm X Police Precinct Scene" on YT f you've never seen it before. The instrumental piece ("Fruit of Islam") is a common cadence at historically black college and universities and school bands with high African American population._

Random fact: Taraji P. Henson was an extra in the film Malcolm X.

* * *

"Cookie, I'm flattered that you find me attractive, but…"

Malcolm spent nearly all of Saturday and most of Sunday morning after Malcolm kissed Cookie while she slept, he spent the entire night and most of the next morning practicing his usual speech. He'd given it often over the years. Too many housewives, daughters and single women throwing themselves at him was the main reason why he left home security for commercial security. With a few substitutions, the gentle turn-down had a 100% success rate – if one was to count having to say it multiple times to the same woman.

"Cookie, I'm flattered that…"

It didn't take long for Malcolm to figure out that Cookie's shameless flirting was largely done to annoy Lucious. When Lucious wasn't around, Cookie was much more appropriate. Flirting with Malcolm was safe because Cookie knew Malcolm would never reciprocate, not even she was intoxicated with her legs spread wide open in the back of his truck. _Especially_ not while Cookie was intoxicated with her legs spread wide open in the back of his truck _._ Besides, Malcolm had a vague feeling that if he took Cookie's cookies, Lucious would take his thumbs.

It was Malcolm's job to study things, and anyone could see that Lucious still loved Cookie. Not just a little, either. Lucious confided in Malcolm from time to time, and he confessed that he'd divorced Cookie without notice because he would've died otherwise. Night after night, Lucious dreamed of killing himself in order to escape such a deep pit of despair. He'd thrown himself into Empire so that Cookie would have a kingdom when she got out of prison. Unfortunately for Cookie, Anika showed up and everything was rearranged to revolve around her.

While Malcolm genuinely sympathized and even said so – if for no other reason than to stay employed - he still didn't believe Lucious was in the right. Whatever pain Lucious had experienced, Cookie must have felt it 10 times over. She didn't even get a choice in the matter. For that reason that Malcolm couldn't fathom the friendliness between Cookie and a man who divorced her in prison while she served 17 years to protect him. Sometimes Cookie straightened Lucious's tie or brought him coffee. He occasionally heard them laughing together. And Lucious regularly called Cookie "baby," even though Anika worked in the same building. Lucious still loved Cookie, but did Cookie still love Lucious? It was impossible to tell.

Ever since Lucious and Anika had announced their engagement at the white party, the warmth between Lucious and Cookie had faded completely. Malcolm never got the impression that Cookie was envious of Anika, but with the space between Lucious and Cookie now, Malcolm wondered if the announcement had made Cookie jealous. And if she was jealous, she was probably lonely. And if she was lonely…

Malcolm took a deep breath and knocked on the door. _Cookie, I'm flattered that…_

The door swung open. "Hi, Mr. Malcolm!"

 _Wrong Lyoness_. "Hey there, Lola Bear." From the moment Malcolm and Becky found Lola on the escalator, dragging her pink suitcase and looking for her long-gone mother, Malcolm had felt a strong affection for the little girl. Before Malcolm could lecture Lola on opening the door for strangers, Cookie walked into the room. "Hey, Malcolm," she greeted, trying to sound cheerful for Lola's sake. Aren't you little early? It's only 1:00."

Malcolm had been half-afraid that Cookie would come out wearing something outrageous, like some sexy lingerie under a sable coat. He was relieved to see that Cookie was wearing faded blue jean shorts and a raggedy Penn t-shirt - no doubt to keep Andre, who was still on a psychiatric hold, close to her heart. She had streaks of blue on her face, arms and legs, and her usually impeccable nails were ruined with paint and primer. There was even a dollop of paint in her hair, which was in a sloppy topknot.

Inwardly, Malcolm exhaled a sigh of relief. "Daylight Savings Time, Cookie. It's 2:00. Did you remember to set your clocks forward?" The sheepish look on Cookie's face told the answer. "Besides, there's no such thing as early," he added, quoting something that was said often during his time in the navy. "You're either on time-"

"Or you're late!" Lola finished with an emphatic nod of her curly head.

"Traitor." Lola giggled and wrapped her arms around her grandmother's neck as Cookie picked her up and placed her on her hip. Like Cookie, Lola had paint in her hair and on her face. "What on earth have you two been doing?" Malcolm asked, walking behind the women. "You look like Smurfs."

"Painting is hard work," Cookie called over her shoulder. "We're fixing up Lola's bedroom. Look, I was planning to have Lola bathed and asleep by the time you came by-"

 _Of course you were_ , Malcolm thought warily.

"-but since you are so very, _very_ on time, you can start in her bedroom while I get Lola cleaned up."

"Will." No one would ever suspect that Cookie would be the kind of woman to enjoy being a grandmother, especially not at such a young age, but Cookie embraced it wholeheartedly. "We were trying to have another baby right before Cookie got locked up," Lucious told Malcolm one day. "She wanted a little girl so bad." And now, it seems as if she finally had one.

Malcolm had drawn out so many blueprints and installed so many security systems that he could measure practically by eyesight. Still, he pulled out his industrial measuring tape and notepad for this job. The last thing Lucious would be able to see is that he took any shortcuts.

Lola's room at Lucious's house resembled FAO Schwartz, but her room at Cookie's house resembled Fisher Price My First Safari. The whole room had a jungle theme, though it wasn't as random and disjointed as the prints and patterns throughout Cookie's apartment. In fact, it was quite nice. A couple of stuffed monkeys here, a lion cub or two there. Malcolm had to wonder if a professional interior decorator had done this room, because it seemed too restrained and color-coordinated to have been Cookie's brainchild.

There was a child-sized roller and paint bucket in the corner of the room, though Lola apparently got more paint on the floor than the walls. The source of the blue paint was coming from the sky on the walls. Not just some plain blue sky, but intricately painted clouds and jungle birds. There was also an elaborate art set, complete with different sized paint brushes and what seemed like hundreds of colors. Malcolm remembered Lucious saying that Cookie had been an artist back in high school – or at least she was before she got pregnant with Andre and had to drop out in the 9th grade.

Cookie's talents had not eroded in prison. Measures of music, complete with notes and staffs, made a trim around the top of Lola's walls. Malcolm had been a drum major in high school, where knowing music theory was a requirement for any band member. As Malcolm studied the wall carefully, he found himself whistling "The Bear Necessities," a song from the Disney film _The Jungle Book_. _Clever,_ Malcolm thought. Of course the littlest Lyon would sleep in the jungle, the mighty jungle. _  
_

If Lola's bedroom was a jungle, her bathroom was a sailor's dream.

 _"_ _Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside_ _  
Oh, I do like to be beside the seeeeea  
I do like to stroll about the prom-prom-prom  
While the brass band plays tiddily-om-pom-pom…"_

Judging by the splashing of water, it seemed that Lola and Cookie were trying to recreate the sea on Lola's bathroom floor. Anybody with an ounce of good sense would know that Lola should be living with Cookie, not Lucious. This was a place where Lola could express herself, where she could romp and play and dream, and where she could splash around with her grandmother and make handprints on the wall and sing at the top of her voice.

 _"Lola!"_ Cookie yelled from the bathroom. _"Get back here!_ _ **Now**_ _!"_

Lola, now a blur of brown and black, had no intentions of going back _there_. Instinctively, Malcolm stepped out of the closest and scooped the little girl off the floor. He held Lola at eye level and tried to look stern, but Lola just threw back her head and laughed. "Do it again, Mr. Malcolm!" Her eyes were so full of joy that Malcolm couldn't help but smile. "Do it again!"

Cookie came out of the bathroom soaked from head to waist and tying her shirt in a front knot, exposing her navel. The shirt clung to her body like a second skin, while the dripping water ran down her stomach and thighs. "Thanks, Malcolm. I wasn't trying to chase her all over the place." Cookie took Lola from Malcolm and wrapped her in a large bath towel. "I don't ever want to see you running around when you're wet, Loly-Poly. You could slip and fall."

Cookie's voice was gentle, but Lola could see she meant business. "Yes, Grandma. Bye, Mr. Malcolm!" Lola waved over Cookie's shoulder while Malcolm wondered how many nicknames this poor child had. Cookie shook her head and rolled her eyes. As she walked away, Malcolm noticed a tattoo in the small of her back, which was also wet. "Grandma, can we sing the song about the seaside again?"

Malcolm didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Cookie was gone. Maybe it was seeing her softer side, or maybe it was hair-ain't-done-ya-makeup-free version of her. Or maybe it was just seeing her in a wet t-shirt and short shorts.

He wondered if Cookie was wearing a bra.

He wondered what the rest of her lower back tattoo looked like.

He wondered how soft the skin below her navel was.

" _Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside  
Oh, I do like to be beside the seeeeea_…"

Malcolm took a deep breath and ran through his speech in his mind. _Cookie, I'm flattered that…_

* * *

Had the continents of Africa and Asia gotten into a world war in a Lisa Frank factory, the carnage would've looked something like Cookie's bedroom. As if the overall motif of the apartment wasn't ugly enough, Cookie's bedroom was an eye-bleeding nightmare of every wild animal a person could think of. There was no theme, no pattern…just dead animal skin and prints all over the place. It was hard to imagine a woman as stylish as Cookie sleeping in a place like this.

Normally, Malcolm would never be in a master bedroom without supervision, and certainly not a woman's bedroom. But when Malcolm poked his head into Lola's bedroom to ask Cookie if she was ready to escort him to her bedroom, he found Cookie in her rocking chair, still in her wet clothes and reading Bible stories to Lola. Lola struggled to stay awake, but Cookie's voice was so soothing and melodic that ultimately, her granddaughter lost. Once Lola drifted off to sleep, so did Cookie. They looked so sweet together that Malcolm didn't have the heart to wake Cookie up.

God, Cookie was beautiful. This was the second time Malcolm had seen Cookie sleeping. But Cookie didn't look like a fragile little kitten like she did on Friday. Now she looked like a fierce lioness, one that would do anything to protect the little cub in her arms. The minute Malcolm noticed that he was staring at Cookie again, he began to practice his speech for when she woke up.

 _Cookie, I'm flattered that you find me attractive, but…_

Security personnel always snooped a little bit, and Malcolm was no exception as he breezed through Cookie's bedroom with his measuring tape in hand. In Cookie's case, there was no need to dig. Papers and pictures were scattered all over Cookie's bed, dresser and floor. She was working on some sort of collage or art project for her wall. Giant cheetah setting aside, Malcolm found the display to be very stylish and artistic. The way Cookie interspersed pictures with little magazine clips, pins, doodles and pithy quotes made for a very interesting display.

One thing Malcolm noticed was that there was virtually nothing that related to Lucious. There was the occasional picture of him holding one of their sons and a magazine review of Lucious's debut album, _Paid in Cash_. Nothing else. That surprised Malcolm, for some reason.

As Malcolm turned away, another picture caught his eye - one that Lucious, unbeknownst to Anika or Cookie, kept in a frame behind their yacht portrait. More than once, Malcolm had seen Lucious pull out this same picture and stare at it, quietly reminiscing about his life with Cookie as a younger man. The picture was of a young Lucious and Cookie in the mid-1980s, the height of bad fashion. Lucious wore a white customized Adidas track suit with matching shell-toed sneakers, while Cookie sported a white new wave-type dress, multicolored fingernails, and long, blonde extensions in her hair. And bamboo earrings – at _least_ two pair. "Ugly, isn't it?" Cookie asked from the doorway. "I don't know what I was thinking when I put those ugly blonde extensions in my hair."

"Sorry – I found it on the floor." Malcolm set the photo down on Cookie's nightstand. "What is this, a school dance our something?"

Cookie shook her head. "Our wedding. That's the courthouse in the background."

"Your _wedding_?" Malcolm picked the picture back up and gave it a closer look. Lucious definitely looked like a young man, but Cookie looked like a child. Sure enough, if one looked closely enough, one could see that Cookie was pregnant in the photo. "How old were you when you married Lucious, Cookie?"

"14." Malcolm waited for Cookie to expound on how she could have possibly gotten married at such a young age, but she said nothing further. Instead, Cookie took the photo from Malcolm's hand and tossed it into the trash can, which was the original destination, and left without another word. She said nothing to Malcolm as he began the plans for her bedroom, even though she had to come back in to get dry clothes to change into. Either Malcolm had overstepped his boundaries or he had struck a chord somehow.

 _Better keep my distance. Keep the talking to a minimum, and work a whole lot faster._

Quickly, Malcolm finished his work in the bedroom. There was one more bedroom to do, and then he could get the hell out of Cookie's apartment and back to safety. It meant he would have to finish the front room and kitchen another day, but Lucious was just going to have to be mad about that. As Malcolm gathered up his supplies to head back to the front room, he found himself looking back down in the otherwise empty garbage can at a deliriously happy pair of newlyweds. So young and happy, so in love…

Malcolm reached down and took the picture out of the trash can, lifted Cookie's memory board and placed her wedding picture underneath, face down. It was presumptuous and totally out of line, but Malcolm couldn't leave those happy newlyweds in the trash can like that. He just couldn't. It felt almost like bad luck somehow.

* * *

If Cookie didn't know any better, she would suspect that Malcolm didn't like her. He was a hard man to know, period. One minute, the two of them were discussing security issues or talking trash over football – he supported the Dallas Cowboys, while Cookie was a lifelong Eagles fan – and the next minute, he was calling her Ms. Lyon (God, how she _hated_ that!) and barely looking at her, like right now. While Cookie made honey cornbread to go with her beef tips and rice, Malcolm treated his work as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. The silence was driving Cookie crazy.

"So tell me about yourself, Malcolm," Cookie encouraged while she cooked. "Other than you being in the navy and a Cowgirls fan, I don't know very much about you, and you're up in my house."

Malcolm didn't look up from his work. "That's pretty much all there is to know. Born in Italy, 3rd generation sailor, Cowboys fan, never married…that's about it."

"Okay, then…tell me one thing about you that nobody else at Empire knows." Malcolm didn't seem like the type to back away from a challenge.

"Well…" _Cookie, I want to bang your back out on the kitchen counter_ didn't seem like an appropriate thing to confess, so Malcolm went with Plan B. "I was a drum major in high school."

"You?" Cookie couldn't imagine this tall African god marching around in a lame-ass band uniform. She had attributed those gorgeous legs of his to basketball or track. Maybe football. But marching band?

"Yeah. Played clarinet. That's how I could read the notes in Lola's room. 'Bear Necessities.'"

"Impressive," Cookie said admiringly. "So you know your music theory _and_ your Disney soundtracks. I'll remember that."

"Oh, God, we played so much _Aladdin_ and _Little Mermaid_ that I don't ever want to see either one of those movies ever again." Malcolm rolled his eyes at such corny memories. "I was the only black drum major, so all my ideas got shot down for two years straight. I wanted to do this piece from _Malcolm X_ for my senior showcase. You remember the music when Denzel and all those guys marched down to the hospital?" Malcolm whistled a few bars. "It's called 'Fruit of Islam' by Terence Blanchard."

"I remember. It's my favorite scene in the movie. That would've been hot."

"Nothing out there on the field at any of the other high schools would've been like ours. But even though it was _my_ senior showcase, you still had to have a majority vote to play it. Of course, I got outvoted 4-1. I think we did 'Shining Star' by Earth, Wind and Fire instead. Something nice and comfortable and familiar to white folks."

"Wait a minute now." Cookie teasingly waved the spoon she was using to mix honey into her cornbread mix. "You can't be disrespecting Earth, Wind and Fire in my house and think you won't get hurt."

"Don't get me wrong. I love the Elements." Malcolm finally looked up from his blueprints. "It's just that when you play in a band, it feels like it's the _only_ black music they ever play. And it's always _that_ song. And they always strip out all the soul, all the funk. It was so dry that we should've been arrested for a hate crime against all hearing people." Malcolm had to laugh at the memory, and Cookie joined him. "Plus _Malcolm X_ came out my senior year, so it meant a lot to me. Me and my boys skipped school the day it came out."

"Your senior year?" This little boy? Jamal had been a baby when that film was released. "What, you some kind of whiz kid who skipped a bunch of grades?"

"Not even," Malcolm laughed. "I started school a year late, and I barely graduated on time. I'm class of '93."

"Okay, waitwaitwait." By now, Cookie was thoroughly confused. "Malcolm, how old are you?"

"I'll be 41 in April."

"You're _kidding_." Malcolm wasn't some wide-eyed innocent after all. In fact, Cookie and Malcolm weren't even four full years apart in age. That changed things. That changed things a _lot_.

"C'mon, Cookie. Don't start giving me hell about looking young." That shy, sweet smile of Malcolm's wasn't helping matters one bit. "What about you?" he asked as he pulled up the calculator app on his phone. "What year did you graduate?"

"2003. Dropped out before the 9th grade so I could raise Andre. Got my GED when I was in prison."

"That's good. A lot of people don't bother to go back when they drop out of school." Malcolm knew plenty of people who dropped out of high school, but if Malcolm was understanding correctly, Cookie never even _went_ to high school. "Do you ever plan to enroll in college? I bet you'd do well."

"Nah. After I got my master's, I figured that was enough." Cookie dropped that bomb casually, over her shoulder, but she knew Malcolm was shocked. Cookie never told anyone she'd finished graduate school except for Carol. Jamal found out on accident. Even Lucious didn't know."Funny thing is that now that I have it, I don't know what to do with it."

"Frame it and hang it up in your office, of course. That's where mine is. Don't tell me you lost yours."

Come to think of it, Anika's degrees were hanging up in her office, and so were Andre's. Cookie always thought that was because they'd graduated from Ivy League schools. She had no idea that displaying one's college diploma was the norm. "Jamal has my bachelor's degree. My master's is in my closet."

"Can I see it?"

"Why?" A shot of annoyance ran through Cookie. "You think it's not real?"

"Oh, no. It's just that I've never been in the presence of a master before." Malcolm stood up and bowed at the waist, making Cookie smile. "Okay, sure," she agreed shyly. "It's in my closet."

Cookie had looked at her diploma exactly one time in her entire life, and that was to make sure the spelling of her name was right. Standing in her walk-in closet with her back to the door, Cookie didn't realize that Malcolm had followed her when she left the front room. Now he was standing behind her. "Mercy College," he read aloud over her shoulder. "Loretha Holloway Lyon."

Cookie hated her name with a passion, but Malcolm made it sound sexy, as if they were sharing a secret between them. "When I filled out the information, I wrote that Cookie was my birth name. I guess they went back to check."

Standing behind her, Malcolm's voice was deep and low in Cookie's ear. When he leaned in to hold her diploma, his arms were practically around her waist. "You got a master's degree in Legal Studies? Isn't that like a step below getting an actual law degree?"

"Yeah." Cookie was surprised Malcolm even knew what an MLS degree was. Her major was one of the reasons why Cookie never brought it up. It sounded like something a person would earn in at the local community college and tire repair. Then there was the question Cookie already knew Malcolm was about to ask: "So, are you going to law school?" Cookie hated that question. Her fellow inmates had asked her so many times, followed immediately by, "You've seen the system from the inside. That would have to give you an edge."

"Nah. I got this because there was nothing to do." If Cookie backed up just a bit, or even leaned her head back, the two of them would be touching. Was this his way of trying to get close to her? "I just want to make music. If Anika drops dead, maybe I'll make head of A&R." Cookie forced herself to turn around. She was standing face-to-face with Malcolm now, and Cookie could smell Malcolm's aftershave. One thing that turned Cookie on in the worst way was a good-smelling man.

"Well, until you get your morbid wish, I'm sure Empire has a legal department, right? You could give Vernon a run for his money." Malcolm took Cookie's degree and held it out at arm's length. "This would look great in a large frame hanging over some expensive-ass leather chair and a bunch of fat law books."

"Why does it matter to you?" Cookie took her degree from Malcolm, shoved it back in tube and put it back on the shelf – where it belonged, as far as she was concerned. Her heart was racing and even though it was a walk-in closet, she suddenly felt boxed in.

Malcolm held his hands up. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to insult you or anything." Cookie was straightening out the clothes and shoes she'd knocked over, and she didn't respond. "I still have that other room to do, so...I better get back to work." When Cookie still didn't answer, Malcolm turned and left, walking back down the hall.

"Oh, my God," Cookie slumped to the ground and brought her hands to her knees. She wondered if Malcolm heard how fast her heart had been beating, or how she began breathing so fast that she felt light-headed. Cookie tried to get herself together by sitting up straight and taking slow, deep breaths, as she had done thousands of times before back in prison. The clean scent of Malcolm's body still lingered in the air. She could still feel him close to her, his voice in her ear as soft and intimate as a kiss. Except for Lucious, Cookie had never been that close to another man before. It felt good. It felt _damned_ good.

* * *

The spare room in Cookie's apartment had all the makings of a safe room. The only thing Malcolm didn't like was that it didn't have a bathroom. There could be no long-term stay. But it was perfect for a security door. It could lock behind her with the push of a button. It could be wired for an intercom that could also make outgoing calls if the nearby cellular towers went down. And the plans could be so minimal that the room could still serve as something else, such as an office or a guest bedroom.

Malcolm had just started the measurements when Cookie came from down the hall. "I didn't mean to talk to you like that," she apologized, leaning against the door frame. "Around the time they started talking to me about parole, I started thinking about law school." That was one thing had Cookie never told anybody, not even Carol. "I studied for months, aced the practice LSAT – the test you have to take to get into law school, you know? I signed up for the first available test date…Malcolm, my scores were so bad that you wouldn't believe I could read."

Malcolm nodded, remembering back to his own college troubles. "When I dropped out of college, I had to take all these tests to get back in," he told Cookie. "My scores were so low that I had to take all these remedial classes, even though I had college credits. I almost didn't go back because I didn't want to take all those extra classes. It had been like, 15 years since I was in school, but I felt like a complete idiot."

"Really?" Cookie couldn't imagine a man as smart as Malcolm having any difficulties in school, at any level.

"Yeah. But I stuck with it and I got my bachelor's degree. And now I'm studying for the GRE – the graduate record exam. I'm thinking about going to John Jay for a master's in Security Management. So, Ms. Cookie Lyon," Malcolm added with a smile as he stood and dusted his jeans off, "now you know three things about me that nobody else at Empire knows. I was a drum major in the band, I had trouble getting back into college, and I'm studying to get into graduate school."

"Ooh, scandalous," Cookie teased. "I'll try to keep it a secret so I don't ruin your reputation."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Now it's your turn."

"My turn for what?"

"Your turn to tell me three things about you that nobody knows." Malcolm set his pencil and ruler down. "Let's hear it."

Cookie thought it over. "I can't make it _nobody_ , since I'm related to half of the Empire brass. But…okay, most people don't know about my master's degree. So that's one. And nobody knows that I took the LSAT. That's two."

"Okay. Now you owe me another one. Make it a good one."

 _A good one, huh? I got your good one._ Cookie flashed Malcolm her most innocent smile. "While you were in the spare room doing those measurements for your blueprints, I was in my walk-in closet touching myself while thinking about you."

The look on Malcolm's face was a perfect combination of flattery, confusion and shock. Cookie laughed so hard that she almost cried. "Very funny," Malcolm finally said, ducking his head and trying to hide a huge smile. "That _was_ a good one. I had that coming." He stopped laughing all of a sudden. "That was a joke, right?"

"You'll never know, will you?" Cookie laughed as she turned to leave.

"Wait!" Malcolm protested with a smile. "That's not fair. You still owe me a secret, Cookie."

"Yeah, I do. And as long as I do, we'll always have something to talk about." Cookie winked. "Come and help me cook these beef tips and rice when you're done in here."

"Yes, ma'am." Malcolm returned Cookie's wink with a mock salute, and she giggled and left. _Cookie Lyon, giggling,_ Malcolm thought with a shake of his head _. Whoda thunk it?_ To Malcolm's relief, Cookie wasn't mad at him after all. In fact, Cookie wanted Malcolm to stay. And Malcolm wasn't ready to leave.

 _Cookie, I'm flattered that I find you attractive…wait, that's not right. I'm flattered that you…that I…_ "Never mind," Malcolm muttered under his breath. He'd get his thoughts together later. Besides, the words just didn't ring true anymore.

TBC


End file.
